


São Paulo

by WayFish



Series: Means But No End [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Gay Pride, M/M, Other, Trauma, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26000080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WayFish/pseuds/WayFish
Summary: Nicky forged ahead until they found what they were looking for, a little alcove between two buildings that the light from the street lamps didn’t quite catch. He crowded Joe inside, kissed him and dropped to their knees on the warm pavement.What does it mean to have lustful thoughts about the thick shoulders of a man who forced himself inside you before shooting you in the head?What does it mean to press the barrel of one’s gun along a person’s tongue before you pull the trigger? Is there a punchline? What is it?
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Means But No End [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887112
Comments: 5
Kudos: 55





	São Paulo

**Author's Note:**

> post 'soap cutting'

There’s this writer Nicky likes who wrote this book that examines the saturation of eugenicist ideologies in western culture. They talk about how there was this sociologist Francis Galton who thought that the best way to build a civilized society was to micro manage reproduction so as to create more pure white able bodied citizens. The writer says that this is why queer people have been historically pathologized, because they did not and do not contribute to that goal. 

Another writer Nicky likes talks about how these white supremacist and eugenicist ideologies further marginalize black and brown and indigenous people of various gender and sexual expressions. Nicky has read a lot of books on these subjects, how these ideas interlink with capitalism and racism and fascism and colonialism. 

Indignation does sometimes creep up in them when reading these texts, because they were there for so much of it. It feels as though they should understand it more implicitly, how these things happen or happened. But ideologies are surreptitious and slippery, nothing at all like violence, which is they suppose is their primary realm of knowledge. Nicky guesses that it’s a sort of forest for the trees situation.

This writer that Nicky likes says that western culture views queer people and their relationships as ‘wasted sexual potential’ and this is why reproductive sex and relationships are systemically insentivised while queer sex and relations are regarded as perverse or uncivil. In this other book that they are reading now the author says that this is why the Nazis shut down all the gay bars and cabarets in Berlin. And this is why they shut down the bathhouses and strip clubs in New York City. And this is why colonizers persecuted the two spirit people of turtle island. And on and on and on and-

Nicky remembers when they were a colonizer, when they were colonizing, when they were burning and pillaging and raising other people’s homes to the ground. And they feel stupid, because it seems so obvious now. 

This other author says that queerness and queer pleasure is to move non linearly through space and time toward a possibility but not an objective, all means but no end, and Nicky isn’t really sure if they understand what that means but they like the sound of it. 

They wonder if all this is the origin of the term ‘cocksucker’ as an insult, because of ‘wasted sexual potential’?

Nicky wonders if that is why Merrick’s bodyguard had put his gun in their mouth?

It is not the first time that sort of thing has happened. It’s not even the 75th time. And Nicky just wants to know, like, why? What are they trying to say with that? What does it mean? 

No place in the world does Pride like  São Paulo . Nicky thinks this is funny because it is a city established by Jesuit priests. 

Of course those priests were there to civilize the people who already lived there by introducing them to Christ. 

They had been dancing in the streets all day, into the night, and Nicky is drunk with it. They are also drunk in the literal sense. All the music and heat and bodies and bodies and bodies moving and rejoicing together left them light headed, rowdy and buzzing in their skin. 

There’s this song they can’t get out of their head. It’s about how men aren’t shit and they bellowed it at the top of their voice, despite Joe being right beside them. Someone yells in Portuguese that they should shut the fuck up because some people are trying to sleep. 

Joe links his arm through theirs. “I think it’s time for someone to go to bed,” he said, gently.

It’s late and the streets and bars have emptied out. 

Nicky screwed up their face, considering. “I think not.” 

Nicky wonders if it was intended as an act of domination? Perhaps that private security dick with the thick arms thought they were proving something, turning the tables, telling Nicky something about themselves? Was he making a mockery of them? Was it a satire on them being a cocksucker? It brings to mind the phrase ‘punching down’.

Merrick labs is months and thousands of miles behind them, but Nicky is still wading through feelings and thoughts about it, even now. Maybe especially now. 

They took Joe’s hand and pulled him into the dark of the nearest alley. 

“Your sense of direction is shit, per usual” he said. “The hotel is not this way.”

Nicky forged ahead until they found what they were looking for, a little alcove between two buildings that the light from the street lamps didn’t quite catch. He crowded Joe inside, kissed him and dropped to their knees on the warm pavement. 

“We could do this in a bed,” Joe offered. 

Nicky shook their head. “Please?” They ran their hands up the length of his chest and nuzzled their cheek against the rise of his cock. “Please, I want it.” They were practically whining. 

Joe laughed and sighed and thumbed open the button on his shorts. 

Nicky planted themselves firm, the way they might settle in a blind behind a rifle. They lap him from root to head, reveling in the familiar taste of him and the weight on their tongue, before tipping Joe into their mouth.

What does it mean to have lustful thoughts about the thick shoulders of a man who forced himself inside you before shooting you in the head, Nicky wonders?

What does it mean to press the barrel of one’s gun along a person’s tongue before you pull the trigger? Is there a punchline? What is it? 

The author Nicky likes, they talk about how queerness is not a state but an ephemeral thing that is gestured towards. What is that supposed to mean?

They bowed and weaved and sucked him deep. And Joe quavered and cursed, curling his fingers in Nicky’s hair. He bit his own fist to muffle a low moan. 

Nicky thinks it is funny that the word ‘tongue’ also means discourse, the means of exchanging ideas. And the word gloss, meaning to elucidate or illuminate comes from the greek, ‘glossa’. And glossa means tongue but also connotes in a more literal sense ‘to tongue something open and taste’. 

They bottomed out, nuzzling into the dark soft hair that framed Joe’s cock. And for a moment Joe held them there, fingers tracing the taut line of their jaw and the mess of their mouth. “God, I love you,” he said.

Nicky blinked slowly up at him. 

Can a bullet be a tongue? Can a bullet say something? Can a bullet taste, elucidate, illuminate or discourse? 

Joe fucked their mouth. They let him fuck their mouth. And when he came Nicky spit on the concrete, laughing and breathless. ‘Wasted potential’ they thought.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Men,” they said. 

Joe hummed in agreement and pulled Nicky to their feet. He smoothed down their hair, wiped the spit and cum from from their chin and kissed them sweetly, licking into their mouth. “And what are we going to do about this, my love?” He reached down, gripped the throbbing heated thing between their legs.

Nicky’s breath caught in their chest and they turned their face against the side of his neck. “Whatever you like,” they said. “But can we do it in a bed?” 

They felt suddenly very sober and a little shy. 

Nicky didn’t understand capitalism or the way it made people behave. And Nicky did not understand why they could not stop thinking about the man who put a bullet through their head. They didn’t understand what it meant to gesture toward something but never reach it. They didn’t understand why they couldn’t understand.

Joe took them by the hand and they stepped back out into the street, into the light. “I’m going to hold you to that,” he said.

They walked back to the hotel hand in hand and he did. 

In the morning Nicky jolted awake with the taste of metal on their tongue and a plummeting feeling in their chest. Joe was there to catch them, pulling Nicky into the bastion of his arms. He whispered a prayer about bad dreams and held them until the tears stopped. It was just a bad dream. 

“Tell me about it?”

Nicky shook their head, scrubbed their face with their hands. They didn’t know how, the ideas were all too muddled.

Joe’s face fell, and it made Nicky ache. Bullets and greek and tongues and catholic priests and capitalism and the things they liked to do with their mouth; where would they even start? They didn’t have the right words yet. Maybe there was a book they could read that would make things clearer. 

Joe shrugged. “Your heart looks heavy, habibi. I wish I could hold some of it for you.”

Nicky kissed him then, took his face between his hands. “Oh don’t you know? You have my whole heart. The full sad sorry gay mess of it.”

Joe frowned. “What does that mean?” 

And Nicky laughed. “I'm not really sure."

**Author's Note:**

> I was really sad that Pride was canceled.


End file.
